Keep Each Other Human
by CeCe Away
Summary: Tag to both 5.03 Free to Be You and Me and 5.04 The End. "Sam lifted his head, trying to be defiant, but the effect was wasted with the low tremors visibly rattling through him."
1. Chapter 1

Tag to both 5.03 Free to Be You and Me and 5.04 The End

This takes place after Dean's phone call, telling Sam they should work together again, but before they meet up on the road.

Usual Disclaimers: I'm just glad the CW, Kripe and Gamble let us play in their sandbox. Of course they relegated us to the corner where all the cat turds are.

**Keep Each Other Human**

Dean rolled over on the bed. Man, he had needed that sleeping jag. Zachariah's whacky fieldtrip into the future had tapped him out, and that had already been fast on the heels of sixteen hours on the road. Eyes still closed, Dean flapped an arm out, rooting around for his cell on the nightstand, found it, and barely cracked an eye open at the screen. Two-fifteen in the afternoon.

Damn. He'd nearly slept an entire day away. Riding the angel transport through time had done a number on him. That or he'd been run through by angel sleeping aid mojo. He vaguely remembered fingers moving toward his forehead even as he growled at Castiel to get out, that under no circumstances was he to just stand there and watch him sleep. Geez, freakin angels.

Yawning, Dean sat up, stretched. Sam should be close by now. The first thing Dean had done after Cas pulled him away from Zachariah was call Sam.

"What made you change your mind?" Sam asked.

"Long story. I just know we're all we got. More than that. We keep each other human."

"Thanks, Dean. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. How far out are you from . . ." Dean looked to Cas. "Where exactly are we?"

"The side of a dark road."

Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh." Castiel's eyes lowered slightly before flicking upward again like a librarian internally cataloging human to angel misinterpretations. "We are in a suburb of Ironwood, Wisconsin."

"Really? Wisconsin?" Dean shrugged. "Ironwood, Wisconsin, Sam."

"Wisconsin?" Sam said on the other end of the line.

"Long story. Where are you?"

"Almost on the other side of the country past Oklahoma and heading in the wrong direction. At least fifteen hours out. I've been trying to get as far away from Reg . . ." Sam cut off.

Dean's head tilted, unintentionally pressing his cell harder to his ear. "Far away from who?"

"Ah . . . Lucifer. Lucifer, Dean. I've just been driving."

Couldn't blame him on that score. The thought of an Archangel ramming himself into Dean was beyond frightening, but Lucifer . . . Squeezing his eyes tight, Dean scrubbed a tired hand down his face. "Well, turn around, moron, and head towards me. I'll drive a few hours, but I gotta tell ya, I'm wiped. Gotta get some shut-eye soon."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired. I'll tell you about it when we meet up."

"Okay. Um, if you're that tired, you should stay there. Let me chew up most of the mileage. It's not like I'm going to, um, anyway, I don't mind."

Not going to sleep. That's what Sam was going to say. Not going to sleep because that's when Lucifer found him. Dean's heart dragged to a slow drone, attesting to how weary he really was that his pulse hadn't hitched up at the thought of the Devil riding his younger brother's dreams. "Okay, Sam. Just . . . drive careful. I'm gonna take a few hours here before I head out. "

Castiel stepped close, inches from Dean's hand around the phone. "Perhaps I should go collect Sam."

"No." Dean and Sam said simultaneously. Apparently Sam had heard Cas through the speaker.

"No." Dean stepped back. "We'll meet up the good old fashioned burn-through-several-tanks-of-gas way. I really need to sleep. Sam will be fine." He spoke into the cell. "Call me when you're close."

#

On the bed, Dean scratched his chest and yawned again while he scanned through his recent calls list. No calls from baby brother, or from anyone else for that matter. Which wasn't a big deal, Sam should still be a few hours out, longer if he'd smartened up and decided not to try and drive it straight through.

Time for a quick shower, grab some coffee and breakfast and head out to meet Sam.

He came out of the bathroom completely invigorated. He took it all back. Maybe angel induced slumber was the way to go. Bottle it up and sell it on eBay. He felt great, ready for a long drive in his baby, and ready, actually ready, to face Sam again. This time there'd be no flying solo because Zachariah's little side trip to the future had backfired on the dick. Instead of frightening Dean into agreeing to be Michael's vessel, he had learned something else. He and his brother kept each other human.

After quickly dressing, Dean lifted his duffle over his shoulder and flipped out his phone to call Sam and let him know he was on his way. Swinging the door open, his boot crunched on the salt lined across the threshold. His brows wrinkled as he noticed the date on the screen. The hell? He glanced back at the digital clock on the nightstand to make sure. Dammit. He hadn't slept an entire day away like he'd thought. He'd slept for two.

"Freakin freakin stupid angels."

He stormed out of the motel room, ready to tear into Cas next time he saw him, and stopped as a sharp pinch stabbed into his chest. He looked down to see a tiny needle embedded in his T-shirt. Stiff red feathers. Dart? His mind went hazy. The duffle fell from his shoulder, or was he falling with it? He shook his head, fighting the bleariness as three fuzzy figures stood over him, and he wished that his tongue didn't feel as thick as it did and he could rip out a louder "oh fuuu . . ." when he saw their eyes turn black.

#

So much for being invigorated. Jostled awake from sliding around in the back of a van with your stomach cramping from whatever sedative was in that dart was not on Dean's top ten lists of things he ever wanted to do again. Holy crap, where'd this demon learn to drive? He hit every pot hole he could find as though he aimed right for them.

Dean's hip smashed up against the wheel well. "Geez, pump the brake a little, would ya?" He pulled himself up into a sitting position, wedging his feet against the back door to keep from sliding around.

The two demons in the back with him just watched, both armed with tranq guns. Comforting. The larger of the two leaned forward off the spare tire he was using as a seat. "Don't try kicking the door. It's locked from the outside." He patted his gun. "Any trouble and we'll put you out again."

Again? How many times did they use that on him? "Don't worry about me, pal. Just enjoying the scenery." Of which there was none. He couldn't see anything but a night sky out the front windows and the two square windows in the back doors had been spray painted over in gray.

Dean leaned his head back against the side of the van, feeling the rattle and jostles and concentrated on doing that Sam-thing where he counted between turns or differences in the road. They were definitely on a bumpy dirt road by the way the wheels kept shifting beneath them. That, or the most dilapidated stretch of pavement known to man. Ah, this was stupid. There were too many bumps. Plus he had no starting reference. He didn't even know how long he'd been in this van. Could be twenty minutes. Could be hours. Forget figuring out where he was going. Once he got there, he just needed to figure out how to get away and go from there.

Besides, he had an ace up his sleeve these demons didn't know about. Sam was driving to meet him. Once his brother figured out he'd gone missing, he'd contact Cas. Little nerdy angel would show Sam what hotel Dean'd been in and Sam could track him from there. Demons were stupid. And Sam was smart. They'd leave a trail to find, they always did. Discarded dart, signs of a struggle, tire tracks, something. Cas couldn't find Dean with the Enochian sigils carved on his ribs, but Sam could track him and then Cas could pop in and save the day.

Grinning, Dean crossed one leg over the other to wait out the ride. He had nothing to worry about. Besides, he'd probably get himself out of this mess on his own long before Sam and Cas came along anyway. Either way he was good. Just three piss-poor demons after all.

The demon on the tire kicked Dean's arm. "What are you grinning about?"

Dean shrugged. "Not a damn thing. Just wondering what your big scary plan for me is?"

"And that makes you smile?" The other demon asked, not looking particularly like he cared if Dean even answered.

"Well, yeah." Dean kept his tone light, conversational. "You know who I am so you know you can't kill me. Well not permanently anyway. So whatever you're planning, you gotta know it's not gonna work."

At that the demon produced a smile of his own. It was so smug, so full of confident menace, it made the skin at the nape of Dean's neck prickle. That couldn't be good.

Abruptly, the van lurched to a stop. The doors opened. Okay, another two demons stood out there that he'd have to take into account. "Get out." The demon motioned with the tranq gun.

Before Dean had a chance to comply, he was yanked out. Both arms were grabbed and he was manhandled between two demons toward what looked like an abandoned airplane hanger out in a long overgrown field, probably an old out of the way runway for crop dusters. It was getting worse and worse by the minute, although his mood perked up marginally as he passed a few cars parked haphazardly around the hanger. Easy pickings to hotwire once he made his escape.

"Hey, easy on the merchandize, fellas," he hollered as they shoved him inside the hanger, dragging him down a long hallway and into a long rectangular room. "What the hell?" he flinched, seeing all the faces staring back at him. Men, women, a couple of children . . . at least twenty people were locked in the room.

"Hosts." Oh now the demon wanted to get chatty? "Suitable hosts. Strong. It's easier to keep them here for when we might have need." He smoothed long hands down his own chest.

Dean stared at him wide-eyed. He had no comeback for this one. He'd never considered such a thing. It was a freakin host farm. Holy crap. Give him one magic marker and he'd start drawing tattoos on all these poor sods right now. Is that what he was here for? A host in waiting. Screw that.

"Clear the room." Chatty clapped and several more demons came in to shoo the people out. "Put them in another holding cell. I don't want them in here with him." The people went docilely enough, a few of the women sniffling, scared out of their gourds. Okay, the escape plan just got a little dicey. He had to somehow get all these civilians out too.

Once the crowd had been herded out, the head demon placed a plastic cup of water on the dirty floor along with a slice of wheat bread across the top of the cup like a lid. "Enjoy your stay." Laughing, he closed the door. Dean listened, hearing the faint click of a lock, but tried it anyway.

"Dammit!" He slammed a fist on the wall. "Okay, okay, get it together." Work with what you got. He turned, scanned the rectangular room. It was made of cinderblock, no use trying to go through that. The floor was cement. The only source of light came from several slits near the ceiling, filtering lamplight from another room. The door was the only viable exit. They'd taken all his weapons, pick locks, paperclip stashes, phone. What else did he have? Several coarse blankets were strewn around the floor, left by all the former occupants. There was a large pile of them humped against the far wall. Nope, not a pile. That was a person.

Dean thumped the door. "Hey, you left one in here." Didn't really care that they did. He just wanted something to complain about. He sighed. Looks like it was up to his ace in the hole. Wait for Sam and Cas. Hopefully they would scout the place out first and know they'd need Bobby to get them more hunters. Demon host farm. That was just messed up.

He picked up the bread and water, sniffed it for good measure, and headed over to the far wall where he sat by the guy he'd mistaken for a pile of blankets. "Looks like we're sharing. Here, buddy." Dean rolled his eyes, wondering if he was talking to a corpse. "Have some water." The guy was facing the wall. Dean shook the man's shoulder.

"Uuuuuah."

Dean froze. All his blood rushed noisily past his ears. He'd know that whimper anywhere. He pulled the blanket down around matted brown hair. "Sammy."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Keep Each Other Human Chapter Two

"Aw, Sammy." Dean tugged the shoulder to turn his brother toward him, but seeing how Sam's features immediately tightened, Dean stopped, let the kid stay on his side. Shifting his own body for a better angle, Dean laid a palm to the side of Sam's face, felt the burn of fever, parchment dry skin. Dammit. How long had Sam been here for a fever to take hold? And what had the sonsabitches done to him to bring on an infection so quickly?

There was a gash on Sam's forehead, running down into the hairline at his ear. The blood around it was caked on in swirly smudges. Looked as though someone had tried to wipe it away with the edge of the blanket. At least one of the people in here had tried to look after his brother.

Dean pulled the blanket back, inspecting. His jaw clenched, seeing the rope binding Sam's wrists together, the chafed skin. He'd get those off in a minute. Lifting the hem of his sibling's dirty T-shirt, he let his palm slide along the heated flesh, his eyes raising as a shiver shot through the long torso . Ribs seemed okay, no breaks or give that he could feel, collar bones intact, but . . . he stopped, felt raised flesh. Stretching the shirt down from the neckline this time, Dean glimpsed angry purpling bruises, the edges already going to the shade of mustard. There were welts all over his back and chest like someone had gone after Sam with a rubber hose. Dean's chest started rising and falling in hard angry pulls of air.

It appeared as though Sam had been here for days. _Had been beaten for days._ Dean had slept two days straight, had been in the van for maybe another several hours at least. They could have taken Sam at any time in between then.

He had to get his brother out of here. Obviously his backup plan was shot to hell, since Sam coming to the rescue was that plan. Shit. Okay, he had to revise plan A. Revive baby brother and get him the hell out. Number one priority. They'd come back for the civilian hosts later.

"Here, Sammy." Dean patted Sam's cheek. "Wake up, kiddo. You need to drink." He dipped his fingers into the cup and dribbled a few drops of water onto Sam's dry lips.

Sam immediately began thrashing, moving his head away from Dean's hands. "No, no, c-can't . . ."

Dean grabbed hold of Sam's chin. "You need to drink."

"No!" Sam bolted upward, getting as far as his shoulders off the floor before crashing back down, slamming his head onto Dean's waiting palm.

"Easy. Sam, come on, wake up." Dean sprinkled more water over his brother's lips, hoping to bring him around.

Sam wrenched his entire body away, curling in on himself, his bound hands covering his face. "I can't, I can't. Gotta prove it to Dean. Please don't do this." Huge stuttering sobs shook through the young man's frame. "Don't want it don't want it don't want it."

This was getting them nowhere. "Sam! Wake up right now and drink this gaddamn water." Dean funneled every nuance of John Winchester into his voice that he could muster. "Not a request."

Sam instantly stilled. Dragging his hands down to his chin, he turned his head to look up at Dean. He looked like a friggin six-year-old playing peek-a-boo.

"Awake now?" Dean went for a cocky smile to reassure, but wasn't sure he succeeded. He probably had worry creases permanently burrowed into his forehead. Fevers tended to do a number on Sam's already whacked up head and even without a thermometer the heat coming off Sam's skin was frightening.

"Dean?" Sam let himself flop onto his back, squeezing his eyes tight at the flash of pain. "Why are you here?"

Dean slid his hand beneath Sam's shoulders to lift him up. "To get you some water."

Sam's head shook. "You're not Dean. That's not water. It's a trick. Just . . . just go away."

"I'm not . . .?" Dean frowned down at Sam, wondering what was going on in that freaky brain. "If it's not water, then what-?" He got it. He got exactly what was going on now. What the demons wanted.

"Have they been giving you demon blood?"

Sam's eyes opened, latched onto Dean's. "Tried. But I didn't, I didn't."

Weariness settled into Dean's bones. "Sam, you don't have to say that. They're demons." He sighed. "It's not your fault that they forced you to."

Sam's forehead creased, his brows lowering as he looked away from Dean. "But I didn't. They're not forcing. They want . . ." His chin trembled. "W-want me to give in. That's why the be . . ." He stopped, lifted his shoulders in a miniscule shrug.

"That's why the beatings," Dean finished for him. The demons weren't trying to just get Sam back on the juice, they were after something much larger. It was about breaking him. Once they broke him enough to say yes to drinking the blood on their terms, it'd only be a matter of time before he was so far over the edge he'd accept anything, even Lucifer wearing him like a hand puppet. Dean had seen this technique applied on the rack. Baby steps toward submission. Submission to damnation. Once one small precious hold on self was given up, that was the end. After that everything came tumbling down.

"I didn't drink it." Sam's head started shifting in Dean's hand. His wrists twisted around inside the ropes, trying to pull them apart. "I didn't drink it. I didn't. Not when Reggie forced it down my throat."

"Reggie?"

"Not when the demons . . . oh God." Sam pulled his hands back over his face as a long shudder rippled through his muscles.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Sammy. It's okay." He pulled Sam's head up into his lap, slightly relieved when the kid let him. Dean didn't know what to do. It was obvious that Sam hadn't had water for a long time, and with this fever . . .

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't drink the blood."

"Okay."

"I wish you were really here so you would know that."

"Sam . . ."

"Well, go on, answer your brother. I'm dying to hear what you're going to say."

Every muscle in Dean's face tightened, recognizing the patronizing female voice directly behind him. Meg.

"Oh, you'll be dying all right." He looked over his shoulder. Meg stood a couple of feet away still in the slight Brunette she'd been wearing the day Bobby stabbed himself to spare Dean. Chatty demon and two other men were behind her.

Dean shifted Sam off his lap, preparing to stand, guard him, protect. "Should have known you'd be behind this. Has your stink all over it."

"Awww." Meg cocked one hip out, body rocking on the heel of her boot. "Not happy to see me?"

Dean stood to face her, adrenaline coursing beneath his skin. It took everything in him not to rush over and snap her scrawny neck. "I'm happy to see you. Cause this time, Sweetheart, I'm going to end you."

She just looked at the ceiling. "Again? That's getting old. I try to kill you, you exorcise me. Yadda yadda. Same ol'. Besides I already have another meatsuit picked out in the other room. She's stunning. It's like one-stop shopping, though I'd kinda like to stay in this one for a while. She's comfy." Tilting her head, Meg looked at Sam. Dean shifted sideways in a lame attempt to shield Sam even from her gaze. Meg smiled.

"Enough of this," Chatty barked. "We have the second brother. Let's move onto the next phase." The three male demons came forward, moving around Meg.

"Stay away from him." Dean shoved one of the men away, swung out at another.

"Hmm, sorry Baby." Smiling like a rebellious child, Meg flung out a hand and Dean flew back over his brother into the cinderblock wall, an invisible force pulsing up against him, making it difficult to breathe. His boots dangled just above his brother's head until the demons pulled Sam to his feet. The young man sagged between them while Chatty pulled his head back by his hair.

Sam's face was a study in pain. It looked like he was barely keeping his eyes steady on the demon. Chatty pulled a glass vial from the inside pocket of his jacket. Dark red liquid sloshed inside. "Drink." The demon pushed the vial beneath Sam's nose. His breathing pinched on a gasp.

Dean's heart skidded in his chest. Sam firmed his lips, shaking his head in tiny rapid jerks. And everything inside of Dean quieted. He stared at his brother. Sam was fighting so hard. Had been fighting this for so long.

"Just say yes." The demon leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's only a little."

"Nuh." Shivering, Sam turned his face away.

Chatty straightened. "Fine then." He stretched out a palm and one of the demons holding up Sam pulled out a thick rubbery tube and handed it to the man. When it was brought into Sam's view, the young hunter flinched. Ah, hell. Dean's hands clenched into fists. It was probably the tube that had already been used on his younger sibling.

Sam lifted his head, trying to be defiant, but the effect was wasted with the low tremors visibly rattling through him. The demon walked a slow circle around Sam and the other two demons. Sam's chest was rising and falling harder and faster each time the tube came into his view.

"Oh." Chatty lifted it toward Sam's face again. "Did you think this was for you?" He mocked a frown. "This time, I'm going to use it on your brother over there. Unless of course . . . hmmm . . . you'd want to take a little sip of blood. Not much, just a little sip. Save your brother a wealth of hurt."

Dean's nostrils flared. So that was their game. They'd brought him here to use against his brother. He was about to tell them how many ways they could shove their plan up their asses when Sam's voice rasped out. "Go ahead."

That took the bite out of Dean's threats. _Go ahead?_ Was not expecting that.

Sam smiled. "That's not Dean. My brother's not even here."

Dean couldn't help the grin. Score one for the good guys. Bet the demons weren't expecting that either.

"Oh really?" Chatty lunged, whipping the tube out. It caught Dean on the side. Unprepared he let out a yelp, but was ready, clamped down for the next hit across his chest.

Chatty spun on Sam. The other demons had turned him, held his head back so he couldn't escape seeing what they did to Dean. Meg hadn't moved, just watched calmly.

Chatty had lost all composure. "Still think that's not your brother? That he's not real?" The tube whipped out again and Dean clenched his muscles, gritting his teeth. Crap, that hurt. He remained silent, taking all the blows, his gaze seeking his brother's and when their eyes met, held, Dean gave an imperceptible shake of his head, conveying, _Don't give in, I can take this, _which was a monumental mistake. He knew it the moment he did it, the same moment Sam's face drained of all his hard-won resolve because with that one gesture, that connection the brothers had of being able to pass everything between them, Sam knew. He knew Dean was really here and that his brother was taking a mother of a beating for him. Dean felt like the biggest moron in the world.

Sam's eyes were huge, wet. _Don't do it_, Dean silently plead. _Keep pretending. Don't let them know. Don't give them any leverage. _

But when the tube was lifted again, Sam's voice squeaked out, hollow and defeated. "Stop." Dean let his head fall forward.

The tube still raised, Chatty glanced over his shoulder at Sam. "Did I hear you right?"

Tears streamed down Sam's cheeks. "Just stop. Please stop."

Chatty turned, pulled out the vial of blood. "You know what to do to make it stop."

Dean looked up. "Sammy."

Sam's chest was heaving. Too rapidly. His eyes darted between the upheld vial and then Dean. "I can't. I can't. I gotta prove to Dean that I won't. I won't. Gotta prove it."

Dean's heart dropped to his toes, leaving his chest a hollow empty thing. He saw just how brutally that choice was breaking his brother. Let Dean suffer a beating or wallow under big brother's distrust. Since when had he become Sam's judge and jury? God, he was a stupid ass. He saw it now. He had broken his brother far more thoroughly than any of these demons ever could.

No more. This wasn't Sam's fault and Dean was going to give his brother the way out right now. "Sam."

Sam's gaze shot to his, wretched, barely holding it together.

"Drink the blood."

Sam started shaking again. "Nuh . . . can't. Gotta . . . gotta prove to you."

"Already have, Sam. This one's a freebie."

Quiet, the demons looked from one brother to the other. Meg's brows lowered, more thoughtful than Dean had ever seen her. Chatty lifted the vial to Sam's lips.

Sam craned his head away, trembling feverishly. Something wasn't right, well, less right than the whole fucking situation. Dean could see it in his brother's twitchy motions, in the way his gaze was flicking around the room, unfocused. His breathing was far too rapid. His flesh that was too pale moments ago was now flushed. The choice was too large, too warped. Sam couldn't take it. He was retreating. Suddenly his body stiffened, head flung back, veins in his neck bulging. His chest had expanded, but there had been no exhalation. Then just as suddenly he gasped, legs going out from under him, bound arms trying to flail in rapid shakes from a full on grand mal. The demons barely kept him from crashing to the floor.

Caught off guard, Meg lost her grip of air and Dean fell to the floor. He was across the room, shoving at the demons. "Get off him! Don't restrain him. He's having a seizure!"

Completely out of their element, the demons released Sam, letting him fall into Dean's arms, where Dean lowered him the rest of the way to the floor, keeping Sam's head cushioned on his knee, loosely holding Sam while the seizure played itself out.

Vaguely he heard Meg order the other demons away, barely noticed them stride out and shut the door, leaving the brothers alone while the last of Sam's tremors subsided.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Keep Each Other Human Chapter Three**

"Sam?" Dean lifted his brother's eyelids, seeking any sign that the seizure hadn't done too big of a number on him.

With both hands, Sam swatted Dean's fingers away and Dean nearly sagged with relief.

"Alright, okay. God, little brother, you scared the crap out of me."

"Why?" Sam slurred, his eyes still closed. "What'd I do?"

The question startled Dean. "Ah, you . . . you had a seizure." He took Sam's hands, began working on the ropes, didn't like how lax the fingers dangled.

Sam's eyes slipped open, rimmed in dark shadows. "Seizure?"

"Yeah." Dean got the first knot untied. He shook his head, trying to make light of it. "Fever- induced seizure probably . . . you're okay now. Do you remember anything?"

Shouldn't have asked that because Sam's forehead creased in those half circle lines as his eyebrows angled together. "Did I . . .? Dean, I didn't, did I? Did I drink demon blood?"

"No, no. Actually that grand mal had perfect timing. Took you out right before you made that choice."

"Grand mal?"

"Yeah."

"Must have been pretty bad."

Dean didn't say anything. It had been horrifying. He pulled the last of the rope away, grimaced at the raw skin on Sam's flesh. "Um, Sammy. They're not going to stop. The demons." He felt Sam stiffen. "I want you to drink the blood."

"No." Sam tried to shift upward, but didn't get far. "I'm trying so hard, Dean. I won't let you down."

Sam buried his face in his hands. "If I don't drink, they're going to beat you to death. I don't know what to do. I can't let you down and I can't let them hurt you." He was trembling again, long large shudders that Dean felt beneath his palms on Sam's arms. This. _This_ was breaking his brother. It had to stop.

"Just take the demon blood. You aren't letting me down."

But Sam wasn't hearing him anymore, just rolling back and forth.

"Sam. Sammy. Just stop. Hey, stop." Dean pulled Sam's hands away, held Sam's face between his own palms. "Look at me. We'll figure this out. You trust me right?"

Sam quieted, looked up at Dean and nodded.

"Kay, good. First things first. You really need to get some water in you."

Sam stiffened again.

"It's just water. Promise."

"You're really here, right?"

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Yeah, man. It's me. Stay here."

"Where, where are you going?"

"Out to the mall. Water's across the room, Sam. Hopefully it didn't get knocked over."

"Yeah, okay."

Dean slipped his knee out from under Sam, settling his brother's head gently on the cement and went to retrieve the cup. Fortunately it hadn't spilled during any of the scuffle. He scooped up a few blankets as well and came back over to Sam. The young hunter's eyes were closed.

Kneeling over him, Dean shook his brother's shoulders. "Hey, hey. Sammy."

"Unnnn." The eyelids wearily lifted. "Dean."

Dean coaxed Sam's head up. "Here drink."

"Don't want it."

"Not starting that again. It's water, Sam. Only water."

"Sure?"

"Promise. Drink." He tilted the cup at Sam's lips, and the young man took a tentative sip, then another, more, until his hands clasped around the cup and he was swallowing for all he was worth. There wasn't nearly enough. "That's good. That's real good."

Energy spent, Sam sagged back. Dean rolled up one of the blankets and scooted it beneath Sam's head. Sam merely blinked up at him before drifting off again. Dean sat beside him, his hand absently resting along Sam's arm while he tried to come up with a way of getting the kid out of there. His chest ached like a mother from that friggin tube. A dozen scenarios ran through his head, all stupid and all with the potential to get him and Sam killed. They were so screwed.

The lock in the door clicked. Dean tensed, snapping his head up in that direction. He felt something at his leg. Sam had somehow shifted closer, his forehead pressing against the side of Dean's thigh. Long fingers folded around a crease in his jeans.

The door squeaked open. Meg waltzed in, alone, another slice of bread and plastic cup in her hands. Dean itched to have a knife in his fist. He let his gaze roam down her body, wondering how many weapons she had on her and how fast he could get to one and ram it into her throat. Boot?

He watched those boots come steadily nearer as Meg crouched down. She was close. Dean watched, waiting for a good time to make his move. He just wished Sam wasn't between them.

"Here." Meg offered the cup of water. "Have you been able to get him to drink?"

_What?_ "What's it to you?"

"Look. Ron is about to come through that door and start on you guys again." She pushed the water closer.

Ron? Dean was guessing that was Chatty. "Figured. Thanks for the head's up," Dean snarled. What the hell kind of game was she playing now?

Meg rolled her eyes. "You need to be gone by then. You need to fix your brother." She fished a set of keys out of her jacket and dangled them over Sam like a carrot on a stick.

Dean felt his brows rise before he slammed his features back into a scowl. "Come again?"

"Don't be an idiot. You don't trust me. I hate you. But this whole thing has gone south." Meg blew out an angry breath. "Look, we demons know how to cause a lot of hurt, but fixing . . . " She flung a hand toward Sam. "Fixing someone isn't exactly part of our skill-set. Ron doesn't know how to back off. He has no finesse. He's going to take it too far and kill your brother."

Dean's heart felt like it was going to punch straight through his chest. He didn't want to ask the question that flew to his mind, but he had to catch Meg in her lies, discover what the bitch was really after. He hardened his voice to a throaty purr. "What's that to you? You kill Sam, Lucifer will only bring him back."

"Exactly. And what do you think Lucifer is going to do to any demon that went against his order not to touch his vessel? It would have been great if we could have delivered Sam broken and ready, but—"

"Since your plan took a royal U-turn, you want to cover up the mess before Lucy knows what you did."

"Didn't you ever hide your mistakes from your father?" Meg cocked her head and looked at Dean through lowered lashes. "You should know me pretty well by now, Dean-o."

"I know you're a vengeful skank."

"I'm a survivor. I know when to cut my losses. So you take your brother out of here and you fix him. You get him well and my father never learns about this, and you get to keep Sammy away from Lucifer for . . . oh . . . just a little while longer."

Sam was rousing. Dean took the water from Meg, inwardly cringing when their fingers touched. Pulling Sam's head up higher, he tipped the cup to his lips. "Just water," he whispered and Sam didn't hesitate this time, gulping and draining the liquid. Meg stared at Sam's throat, seeming to be fascinated by his bobbing Adam's apple.

Dean didn't trust her, but he believed her. Plus he had no other options. Sam couldn't take another round with Chatty Ron. "What about the others? The hosts?"

Smiling, Meg shrugged. "What do you think I'm using as a distraction? Relax. I'm not going to hurt them, just let them out. They'll scatter into the field and it will give the other demons something to chase."

"No," Sam breathed out. "Can't u-use humans like that."

Meg arched a brow, looking to Dean.

"Sam's right. They're innocent people."

"Who won't be harmed. They're desired hosts. Besides, once it's known you guys are out of this room, every demon in this hanger will stop chasing the hosts to come after you. And once Lucifer gets wind of this, no one's coming back here. The hosts will be forgotten. It's their best chance, better than if they went with you."

Dean met Sam's gaze.

Meg huffed. "Wow, every time I expect more from you muttonheads, I'm sorely disappointed."

"All right," Dean groused.

Sam shifted up higher, supporting himself with the help of Dean's arm around his back. "Dean, you can't trust her."

"I don't trust her. But I trust her self-preservation instincts. And I'm getting you out of here." He held his hand out for the keys.

Meg dropped them in his palm. "Tan Pick-up. In five minutes go out the door, head left down the hallway, third door on the right is the exit. Once you leave this room, you're on your own so I'd haul ass."

"Right." Dean frowned. "How many demons?"

Meg pursed her lips together. "Twenty-one. But don't sweat it, Baby. You'll only have to worry about sixteen."

"Why?"

Meg grinned so impishly her dimples came out.

Shaking his head, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You are a freakin piece of work. Only five of the demons know who you are so you're using both the hosts and our escape as a means to take them out."

"Like I said, I know what to do to survive." Meg shrugged. "I'm going to get right up there in Lucifer's tight little circle, but not if he finds out about this dismal failure."

Dean blew out a breath. He could not believe he was even having this conversation. "Well, best of luck with that." He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, don't worry. And, Dean-o, we'll meet again and when we do . . . things between us . . ." She winked. ". . . back to normal."

"Wouldn't want it any other way."

"Good."

"Good."

"And Sam." She leaned down close, sliding a finger along the young hunter's jaw that clenched at her touch. Dean locked his muscles, resisting the urge to shove her away. "Sweet cheeks, I'll see you again real soon."

Sam cocked his head out of her reach.

Meg's gaze swept back up to Dean. Shifting she lifted the cuff of her jeans and pulled a knife from her boot.

He felt Sam's flinch, matching his own jerk. Meg flipped the blade over, extending it out hilt first, then she smiled, pulling it back, obviously thinking better of it, and stood. Walking backwards toward the door, Meg set the knife down. "I'll just leave this over here for you."

Bitch wasn't stupid, he'd give her that.

Her hand rested on the doorknob. "Five minutes, Dean. Then you get your brother out of here and you fix him."

With that she sauntered out the door. Dean waited, making sure there was no click of the lock.

Sam was looking up at him expectantly.

Hiding his worry, Dean mussed his brother's hair. "Think you can walk?"

"How far do you think it is to the truck?"

Dean shrugged. "Not far? Come on, Cupcake. Up and at 'em." Shoving the keys into his pocket, he hefted Sam to his feet, steadying him around the waist while a shudder ran through him.

Sam held out a hand. "It's good. I'm good."

Dean wasn't convinced, but there really wasn't any choice so he tucked himself beneath Sam's arm and helped him over toward the door. He leaned Sam up against the wall, keeping a hand on the kid's chest while Dean stooped to retrieve the knife. He almost wept over the feel of having a solid weapon in his palm.

Then they waited.

TBC


	4. Final

Keep Each Other Human Final Chapter

"Has it been five minutes yet?" Sam looked ready to slide down the wall.

Pulling his brother's arm over his shoulder, Dean let Sam lean on him, taking most of his weight. "Close. I'd say a few minutes more." His torso was killing him. Damn tube. Sam couldn't be feeling any better.

"Kay." Sam's head rolled toward Dean.

"Stay with me. We got to make a long run." Dean nudged Sam back with his own head.

"Yeah, gotta run."

The sound of feet slapping cement, running, a group of people, clapped outside the door, then angry shouts, orders to "round them up", more rushing footsteps. The noise grew farther and farther away.

That was their cue. "Now, Sammy." Dean pulled open the door, stuck his head outside into the vacant hall. "Let's go," he whispered, and half-dragged, half-carried his sibling into the hallway. Their luck was holding. He heard a guttural shriek—had to be Meg eliminating her targets. Dean couldn't help hoping the shriek belonged to Chatty Ron, but he didn't stop for details, just dragged his brother who was stumbling more than walking, down that hallway.

Third door, third door. Here. Not willing to lose his grip on Sam, Dean kicked the door, relieved when it flew outward, and hauled his kid brother out into the night. His knees nearly buckled, seeing the tan truck right there. Right freaking there. With a surge of energy, he practically carried Sam the few yards over to the passenger side, wrenched it open, and shoved Sam inside. Flying around to the other side, pulling out the keys, he slid onto the bench and shouted "Hail Mary!" as the engine revved to life just as several demons slammed out of the hanger door, rushing toward them.

Shoving the gear into Reverse, Dean punched the gas and the truck sped backwards into the field. Dean hit the brakes, pushed up into Drive and fishtailed around, looking for the road. There. Heading toward it, he left the demons and the hanger in a cloud of flying grass and dust.

Dean tore down the old country road, putting as much distance as he could between them and the demons that were sure to be following. The wheels spun out, skidding and sliding across the dirt. The truck bucked up, hitting a particularly nasty bump and Sam flew off the seat, hitting his forearms on the dash.

That must have jolted him to full consciousness. "Dean!"

"You all right there, Sammy?"

"No!"

"Yeah, alright." Dean eased up on the accelerator, glancing in the rearview mirror. So far there weren't any headlights behind them, but that wouldn't last. They had one little pig sticker between them and more than a dozen demons on their tail. "Sam, look around. Check out the glove box. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Without questioning, Sam dug into the glove box, throwing insurance papers and the truck manual to the floorboard. He found gloves . . .

"Huh."

Dean took his eyes off the dark road to glance over. "What?"

"Oh, just a, a small Bible. One of those travel versions."

"And?"

"Just ironic." His voice was low, coated in exhaustion. "Some demon's been driving around with a Bible and didn't know it."

Dean grinned at that. He needed something to grin at. "Okay. Any weapons? Guess it'd be too much to ask for a demon to be riding around with a box of salt."

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. Well, there's this." He pulled a tiny silver cross, a bookmark of sorts, from between the scripture's pages and wrapped the chain around his wrist, palming the little trinket.

"Great. That's so not helpful. Try the floorboards."

Sam bent over, searching around, and the engine sputtered, the truck slowing, the backend scraping sideways.

"No no no no no, Sweetheart. Don't die on us now. Shit!" Dean slammed the steering wheel with his hands when the engine died and the truck spun out to a rapid stop.

The brothers looked at each other, how royally screwed they were passing across their features when Dean heard engines. He twisted around, seeing the dark shapes. Shit! They'd been followed the entire time by vehicles without lights on.

Dean turned to his brother. "Sam. We got to get out of the truck. You hide. I have the knife. I'll distract them and when they get out of one of those cars, you get in."

"No, I'm not leaving you."

"That's not the plan." Dean's tone was a whining grumble. "Drive straight toward me and I'm jumping in."

"Oh." Sam's grin was quick and flashing. "That's never going to work, but I like it."

"Okay, then. Are you able to—Sam!"

The passenger side door yanked open and all Dean saw was his brother flying out the door. "Sam!"

Dean lunged after him, the hilt of Meg's knife already in his palm and coming out of his belt. It flashed in the moonlight as he jammed it into the back of the demon punching his brother. The demon hissed and turned and Dean plunged the blade into him again, spinning the guy away into the darkness as he pulled the knife free.

Grabbing onto Sam's shirt, he heaved him up and got him running, well stumbling mostly, but they were moving into a field. God, they were out in the middle of nowhere. He needed a town. Needed a phone. Needed Sam to be safe and whole.

Shouts called behind them. "They went that way." "Over there." "Spread out."

Light played over shadow to their left, gleaming like a flat mirror within the tall grass. Moonlight playing over water. A pond of some sort.

Sam's legs gave out. He dropped.

"No no, keep going, just a few more steps."

"To where?" Pain caked Sam's tone.

"Come on." Dean circled his arms around Sam's stomach, hauled him up, herded him forward until their legs were splashing in water. "Be careful, don't know how deep it is, but get into the middle."

The pond was small, barely a few yards across on all sides. Sam stumbled, went under, but was back up in moments, sitting on the bottom, water lapping around his chest and knees. "Dean, how is this going to help?"

Dean stood at the water's edge, the glinting blade outstretched. He looked back over his shoulder. "Still got that cross?"

"Yeah?" Sam lifted his hand where he'd wrapped the delicate chain. "Dean . . .?" His head cocked. "God, you're brilliant."

"Never doubt that. Well, get to blessing."

Sam slapped the tiny cross down into the water and began reciting the prayer to make holy water. As the first demons came at him, Dean lost the anchor of Sam's voice. He became a flurry of motion, stab, jab, keep moving, keep the attackers off balance. When he kicked out, sending a demon tumbling into the water, and that demon screamed, skin bubbling and hissing like steam, Dean knew Sam had completed the prayer.

Another demon came at him and Dean let him come, pulling the guy with him as they fell backward into the water. The demon shrieked, thrashing as Dean held him under until the body stiffened and a roar of black smoke plumed up into the night sky. Dean shoved the floating body away.

Staying low, Dean moved to the pond's center toward his brother. The remaining demons had smartened up, staying at the edge of the water.

Dean flinched as Sam grabbed his arm.

"Sorry," Sam said. "Are you hurt?"

The welts on his chest hurt like a mofo. "No, I'm okay. You?"

"I'm alright." Which was as big a load of crap as Dean had just told him. Sam had barely made it across the field, was still feverish and recovering from days worth of beatings without nourishment. Yeah, he was alright. The demons began pacing the pond, circling like hyenas. There were about nine of them. Dean wished they'd stop moving so he could get in a direct line between them and Sam. They couldn't enter the water, but they could still throw knives. Not wanting to hit Lucifer's vessel was probably the only thing that had kept them from that. He only hoped none of them went back for a gun. Or even a rope. If the situation was reversed, Dean would just lasso their asses out of here. He seriously hoped these lackey demons were lackeys because they didn't have too much going on in the attic.

For now, the demons seemed ready to just wait them out. Which was a pretty awesome plan considering he and Sam had nowhere to go.

He felt Sam shiver. The kid was resting his head on his knees, long wet hair totally obscuring his face. The fact that he wasn't keeping an eye on the demons was a clear indication of how ill Sam was.

One of the demons stopped pacing, gripped another by the shoulder. "Go get the car, drive it into that puddle and we'll lift them out." Dammit. There always had to be at least one demon who could think on his feet. Crap. The pond was shallow. Driving a car over them could actually work. The demon ran off into the dark.

Dean shook Sam, cautioning, _be ready, get alert_. Sam barely moaned, but didn't lift his head. Craptastic.

The shrill of an engine turning over hummed through the air. Headlights snapped on, moving, then turning straight for them. Dean shifted up into a crouch. Only one thing he could do. Pull the demons out of the car into the water and hope they didn't grab him and Sam first. They didn't have a lot of options.

The headlights moved closer, bright in Dean's eyes. A flapping gust of air whirled by. The car abruptly stopped. The dark silhouette of a dude in a flat-shouldered trenchcoat stood at the driver's side door just before the demon sailed through the window to cartwheel through the air.

As rapidly as the angel appeared, he disappeared, materializing at the water's edge, angel killing blade in one hand, other palm pressed against the smart demon's forehead. Smoke spiraled out of the throat like a mini cyclone. Cas moved like contained lightning. One, two, three more demons were pulled one by one from their hosts.

Castiel's fluid motion was a rare thing of beauty. Though it appeared the angel didn't need any help, Dean ran out of the water anyway, plunging Meg's knife into a demon coming up behind the nerd angel.

"Enjoying yourself there, Cas?"

"Actually, yes." The angel didn't even sound winded. "Killing demons is enjoyable."

They fought back to back, taking all comers. And suddenly they found themselves without any new opponents. Without stopping to catch his breath, Dean ran back into the pond. He hadn't heard a sound from Sam and that worried him. He found his brother floating on his side, face half in the water.

"Sam!" He pulled the kid up, supporting his head at the same time he shook him. "Sam, come on!" He could see his brother's chest rising and falling, clearly still breathing.

Cas appeared right behind Dean, crouching over his shoulder to peer at Sam. "Is he well?"

"No, he's about as far from well as you can get," Dean ground out. "I really wish you still had your healing angel juice."

"For what it's worth, Dean. I wish that as well."

"Yeah, well . . ." Wasn't much they could do about that. "Sammy, wake up."

Sam's eyes slid open. "Hey, Dean." His gaze tracked over above Dean's shoulder. "Cas?"

"Sam."

"How'd you get here? How'd you even find us?"

Dean frowned. "Yeah, how did you find us?"

"Text message."

Dean's eyes widened. "You got a text message? From who?"

Cas shook his head. "I do not know. The number was blocked."

"Meg," the brothers said in unison.

"What is that noise?" Cas looked around.

Dean pulled Sam closer to him, hearing it too, a faint clicking. He stared hard at his brother's shaking length, the trembling in his chin. Ah, hell. "That's Sam's teeth chattering."

"Can't h-help it." Sam glanced over at him, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

"Uh, Cas," Dean said. "Wanna get us out of here?"

"Certainly." His arms came forward . . .

. . . and they were in the last hotel Dean had been in, Sam safely in his arms, still shaking as they bounced slightly on the bed from the landing.

"You transported us back to the hotel the demons nabbed me from?" Dean's brow arched.

Cas cocked his head. "Well, your car's still here."

Dean closed his mouth, then opened it again. "Oh, good point."

"Shall I transport us to another hotel?"

"No." Dean waved him off, shifting off the bed to rearrange his brother more carefully. The kid was wet and still shivering, watching him through half-opened eyes. "I doubt any demons would think of coming back here to find us. Besides I gotta take care of Sammy. Listen, Cas. Can you pop into a drugstore and get me antibiotics? And Gatorade or whatever you can find that hydrates ."

"Dean, it's late, the stores are all closed."

Straightening, Dean just looked at him.

Cas lowered his gaze. "Oh. You mean steal them." With a flutter of air, the angel disappeared.

And reappeared by the foot of the bed with a crumpled paper bag. He pulled out the big pharmacy containers pharmacists used before they counted out the pills into separate containers. Ciprofloxacin. Amoxicillin.

"Dude." Dean clapped the angel on the shoulder. "You are so our pharmacy run guy from now on."

Cas pulled out three bottles of Gatorade. Orange, red, and blue. "These will do? I was uncertain how the different hues would affect your brother."

Dean grinned at that. "They're perfect. Will you turn on the shower for me?" He thought about that. "Meaning, let the water run until the temperature is warm."

Cas nodded and disappeared. Dean knew he was in the bathroom when he heard the water running. Would it kill the Trenchcoated Wonder to walk a few steps?

"Okay, kiddo, we need to get you out of these wet clothes, and in the shower."

"No, sleep first." Sam didn't bother opening his eyes.

Dean worked the laces of one of Sam's boots, drew it off. "Nope, you're still shivering." He left the other boot on and gripped Sam beneath his shoulders to drag him up to sit against the headboard. He held out the blue and red bottles. "Drink one of these while I wrangle these sopping jeans off you. Not a suggestion, Sam."

Sam stared at the offered sports drinks, then finally took the blue one. Dean cringed inwardly. He hadn't been thinking. Not wanting to make a big thing out of the freakin color of Gatorade, he went back to Sam's other boot while Sam sipped the blue liquid.

Getting Sam to the shower took a lot of energy neither of them had to spare. Dean had stripped Sam to his boxers, and even with Castiel's help, getting Sam clean became one of those hold him upright under the spray and scrub as gently and quickly as you can ordeals. The yellowing bruises covering the kid's torso made Dean want to storm back to that hanger and burn it to the ground.

Once Sam was back on the bed—the room only had a single—wrapped tight beneath the comforter, antibiotic and pain pills taken, and wet boxers pulled off, Dean took a quick turn in the shower, spraying off mud and whatever other gunk had been in that pond water he didn't really want to think about.

He came out of the bathroom to find Castiel looking slightly perplexed at the state of his dripping wet trenchcoat. "If you have matters well in hand here, I'm going to go someplace . . . arid." With that, he blinked out in a whoosh of air.

"Yeah, you go dry off," Dean murmured and turned off the lights, easing the curtain back to let in a soft glow from the street lamp outside. Sinking into the chair, he let his gaze drift over his sleeping brother. In the future Zachariah had dropped him into, when Dean and Sam had sat at that picnic table before going their separate ways, that'd been the last they'd been together, which turned out to be the first baby step to both of their damnations. Sam lost his hope that Dean would forgive him, trust him again, and Sam had said yes to Lucifer and Dean had become a person he didn't recognize or admire much. In Chatty Ron's hanger, Sam still held onto the hope that Dean would forgive him and had looked to Dean and consistently said no . . . and Dean had been humbled.

He gained something valuable from Zachariah's warped adventure in time, and it wasn't about hoarding toilet paper. Dean would never become that cold leader of the future as long as his brother was with him because he knew as surely as his heart knows how to beat that Sam kept him human.

_FIN_


End file.
